


Misunderstood

by ChaoticBisexualBard



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Communicating, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other, Smut, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22367149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticBisexualBard/pseuds/ChaoticBisexualBard
Summary: "So, how is it that you two met?" She hummed quietly as she focused on her work. Jaskier closed his eyes and steadied his breathing."I met him at an inn, playing a song... I could barely see him over all the beautiful maidens falling at my feet and grabbing for my prized possessions!" He bragged, she nodded sarcastically "Mhmm... and then every woman in that bar and The Witcher ravished you til the dawn, yes?" She poked his chest playfully and they laughed together."No, no... But I did meet him in an inn, I asked for a review and he ignored me... I still followed him, he punched me straight in the gut and we got kidnapped by elves..." he confessed."So the song isn't entirely correct is it?"
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 362





	Misunderstood

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware I misspelled Jaskier's name, I will go and fix it as soon as I can. I wrote this all in one sitting while having a breakdown, do forgive me. This is also the first real fic I've worked on in months so I am a little bit rusty!

Laughs and cheers filled the tavern as folks mingled and socialized. The moon was high in the sky and the breeze was warm and fresh. To any townsperson unaware of the danger that lurked just on the outskirts of the town, tonight was a merry one. A festival had kicked off earlier that day, so nearly everyone was in high spirits. 

Maidens danced about, occasionally sending a flirty wink, or sway of the hips toward the patrons at the tables. A few others were chugging their ale and placing bets on who would either piss themselves, or black out first. 

Yes, all was merry and great, truly a time for celebration! Until...

The door to the tavern swung open, and the smell of guts and blood heavily filled the once fresh air. A maiden running tables dropped her tray and gasped, and everyone fell quiet and turned to listen. Those at the bar too drunk to really understand what was going on slurred confusedly. "What the-"

"It's a Witcher!" Some of them hushed out.

"The Butcher! T-the Butcher of Blaviken!" Another wheezed, pointing a crooked finger at the man who stood rigidly at the doorway. 

Shocked whispers and a few fearful shouts erupted from the crowd as he began to walk into the tavern, heavy boots fell on the oak floors. The crowd split and one man even fell off the bar stool, spilling his drink all over himself as he backed up and made his escape. The Witcher walked up to the counter and let out a loud grunt. His hair was matted, stuck to his forehead and disgusting filled with dirt and guts. His eyes... His eyes were pitch black, they looked horrifying.

HE, Geralt of Rivia, looked absolutely pissed. 

The rest of him was also covered in guts, blood, and all other sorts of entrails. The barkeep stared at him for a second. "N-Now I don't want any trouble... Uhm... A-Ale! Is that what you'd like?" He practically squeaked. He was no more than a young lad, barely enough chin hairs to call himself a man. 

"Room." Was the only thing that came out of The Witcher's throat. The barkeep nodded as he gently held out his hand for the gold that was expected. 

"Well, s-sir you still have to pay, uh..." he stammered, shaking in his boots. The taller man nodded and let out an understanding grunt before taking a few deep breaths, he then reached onto his belt and pulled off a sack of coins and dropped it onto the counter. "How long with this get me?" He said calmly. The barkeep bit his lip and nodded. 

"You may leave... whenever you'd like." He responded and The Witcher grunted. Turning before he snapped his head to the door. Just then a smaller, more puny man stumbled into the bar, out if breath and sweaty. He didn't appear to be in too good of shape either either gash on his arm and a few cuts and scrapes on his face. He was also limping. He looked up and spotted his target and began to march toward him. "Geralt! There you are! Shit..." he paused and looked around at the patrons and grimaced. "Sorry..." he mumbled and then walked up behind Geralt who snarled at him.

"Fuck off, bard." He warned. Jaskeir simply huffed and backed up. 

"Listen, I didn't mean to get in the way!" He tried desperately to explain the situation. Geralt had already begun walking toward the bathhouse, he let out an angry growl as he began to walk a little faster. Jaskeir refused to let up.

"Geralt... Geralt, STOP! Ugh, WAIT!" Jaskeir reached forward and grabbed the back of his armor, which then caused Geralt to angrily whip around and scream. 

"I TOLD YOU, TO FUCK OFF! YOU CAN GO AND GET EATEN BY A PACK OF WOLVES FOR ALL I CARE!" He pointed aggressively toward the tavern door and the bard jumped back in shock. A gasp left his throat as a knot began to form there, and his blood ran cold. "YOU RUINED MY CHANCES FOR THE NIGHT TO KILL THAT THING, AND NOW IM GOING TO HAVE TO TRACK IT DOWN AGAIN, AND IT'LL ONLY CONTINUE TO KILL PEOPLE UNTIL IT IS DEAD WITH A SWORD THROUGH ITS BELLY!" Spit flew and Geralt shook with red hot anger. Jaskeir lowered his head and then turned to walk away. "I-I'm sorry Geralt, I really am." He tried to say, but The Witcher had already slammed the door of the bathhouse, leaving Jaskeir to his thoughts, and to the other bar patrons. He turned and walked to the bar and pointed a thumb to the door The Witcher had disappeared behind and let out a sigh. "I'm with him..." 

The barkeep looked him up and down for a moment before nodding. "I could tell, are you alright?" He asked. Jaskeir nodded before rolling his eyes. "Stubborn Bastard." He sat on the bar stool in front of him then put his head down, being careful of the large gash near his shoulder. "Do you all have some kind of medic perchance?" He inquired, sounding defeated. 

It wasn't long until a lovely woman had lead him upstairs and into what appeared to be a study area. He was sat down in a chair and watched the woman who'd brought him up here as she dug through drawers and cabinets for any medical supplies she could find. Deciding to shoot his shot, he opened his mouth and spoke. "What's your name?" 

"Sabella." She said simply, she turned to look at the battered man, her long curly hair framing her face, she frowned with concern and her striking blue eyes narrowed as she turned back to look for a few final things. Jaskeir nodded before humming. "Julian." He replied back, although she never asked his name he figured it to be a polite gesture. A small smile graced her lips as she let out a small laugh. "Aw, that's my baby cousin's name." Jaskeir shook his head in shock, talk about getting shot down. He stayed quiet, instead choosing to quirk an eyebrow at her. She turned back and rolled her eyes playfully.

"Oh, don't give me that look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I am already spoken for, and am not easily swayed. I love my dearest Faltrud." Jaskier sputtered for a moment before setting a hand to his chest. "I wasn't trying anything!" He tried to defend himself. A lie, and a terribly crafted one at that. She let out a quiet snort before nodding.

"Right, and that big scary Witcher that walked in here moment's fore' you did, isn't something akin to your master?" It was her turn now to raise her brows. 

Jaskeir blushed and looked away. "Fine, you got me. How could you tell?"

"Oh bard, it was quite obvious, noone in their right mind would so daringly approach what many consider to be a monster among men." She helped Jaskeir out of his jacket and then quickly got to work on his wounds. She let out a small hiss at the gash on his shoulder. "What kind of creature of the night did this?" She asked as she began to clean the wound. Jaskeir let out a sigh before looking at her with a frown. "You'd have to ask Geralt about that. I haven't the slightest clue." She nodded and then sighed whimsically.

"Geralt of Rivia... The white wolf, Butcher of Blaviken and slayer of Monsters and Elves. Father to many a babe, at least one in every city." She joked. Jaskeir let out an audible laugh at the last part. "I wouldn't be too sure about that one! He does have some level of standard when it comes to those he beds." 

"And you should know this, how?" Jaskeir paused, his mouth hanging open in shock. She really just killed him faster than that monster could. He blushed even brighter and let out a small huff. She let out a genuine giggle. "Don't worry, I'm not one to judge based on who the bed, I myself fancied a maiden named Ylmara once, before I moved here that is. Pretty as a freshly bloomed flower on a spring morn'." She smiled fondly.

Jaskeir nodded in understanding and proceeded to lay his head back. 

"Besides, if I were you, I'd do my best to have him as well..." she paused for a few moments before taking a deep breath. "When I was a babe, A Witcher came by the village I was born in, that night there was an invasion... Supposedly once he had returned the entire town was brought to ash and dust and very few people remained. He took my brother, practically just a babe himself and me and led us to safety a few towns over... Neither of us remember him, but the woman who raised us said she won't ever forget his face... I don't think it was our dear Butcher, but since I was told the tale, I've always been fascinated by their kind." 

Jaskeir stayed quiet for a few minutes before smiling. "So he doesn't scare you?" 

She shook her head and smiled. "Oh no, but he did give me quite a shock barging in like that!" Jaskeir grimaced again before mumbling an apology. 

She shook her head and gently patted his now patched up arm. "It's alright, he's keeping us safe isn't he? He can barge into this inn at any time of day as far as I'm concerned." She brought up a chair and pulled it in front of the bard and sat down, beginning to work on the scrapes and bruises on his face. She tsked before taking a rag from a warm bowl of water and gently wiping his face of the dirt and grime. 

"So, how is it that you two met?" She hummed quietly as she focused on her work. Jaskeir closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. 

"I met him at an inn, playing a song... I could barely see him over all the beautiful maidens falling at my feet and grabbing for my prized possessions!" He bragged, she nodded sarcastically "Mhmm... and then every woman in that bar and The Witcher ravished you til the dawn, yes?" She poked his chest playfully and they laughed together. 

"No, no... But I did meet him in an inn, I asked for a review and he ignored me... I still followed him, he punched me straight in the gut and we got kidnapped by elves..." he confessed.

"So the song isn't entirely correct is it?" She accused before singing the verse. "His army of elves at his hooves did theyyyy.... revel." She cocked her head to the side.

"There was so reveling was there?" Jaskeir shook his head honestly.

"No, we were captured, and Geralt convinced them to move on somewhere else... He isn't known the kill innocents." He replied.

"I see, so The Butcher of Blaviken is no true butcher at all, just a man caught in an unfortunate situation?" Jaskeir nodded again, waving his hand.

"Geralt told me about the entire thing, he was cornered and they attacked, he had no choice but to defend himself." The woman nodded as she wiped a salve on a few of his cuts. 

"Tis just what I thought... He is quite misunderstood isn't he?" She said it more like a fact that she knew for sure. Jaskeir was once again quiet but then nodded gently.

"I believe so... Geralt is... incredibly kind, oh and-" he adjusted himself in his chair as she pulled away. 

"The common misconception, is that Witchers don't feel... They most certainly do, Geralt feels very strongly, but he can have trouble expressing it..." she nodded in understanding. 

"Well, I'm glad to hear that they're more like you and I than I had originally perceived... You're all patched up, two doors down you can find your room and on the opposite side two more down from that is me and my husband's room. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask." She smiled and put a gentle, Almost motherly hand on his cheek. He blushed out of habit then pat her hand. "Thank you, Sabella. You've been very kind." She patted his cheek gently then stood up. 

"I'll be sure to have someone deliver some food and ale to your room, you need the rest. I'll be sure your bodyguard is taken care of too." She teased. 

"Ah yes, wonderful, thank you." He rolled his eyes and watched as she walked off down the hall. He listened to her footsteps recede then closed his eyes once again. 

He began to hum a soft tune that had been stuck in his head for a few weeks now, he still hadn't found any words to it, but he was sure after a good meal and a bath he could think of a verse or two. He stood up slowly and stretched, before walking a little ways down the hall and entering his room for a long awaited, and much deserved rest.


End file.
